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Thread: Assignment 2 - Creative Mythology

  1. #21

    Default Re: Assignment 2 - Creative Mythology

    Quote Originally Posted by Iron Aquilifer View Post
    You were already accepted previous or not? That last "and assignment one" makes me think that you were not? I believe that registration ended last week if that is the case.

    Also, I hope everyone likes titanic battles 'coz I sure as hell do

    I misunderstood Frosty's message. I just was saying that I was working on something for this assignment.

  2. #22
    DeanE555's Avatar Libertus
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    Default Re: Assignment 2 - Creative Mythology

    Thank you for the commentary everyone, I myself thought it to be some what cheesy when I wrote it,but it was the best thing I had...

    That said I eagerly await to see what Frosty has in mind next for this course.

  3. #23
    FrostySOTF's Avatar Ice in My Veins
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    Default Re: Assignment 2 - Creative Mythology

    Shall be grading tonight everyone! Make sure your assignment is turned in within the next 8 or so hours, shall be looking at grammar this time as well!

  4. #24

    Default Re: Assignment 2 - Creative Mythology

    I'm not going to make it. I have such a bad case of writer's block right now.

  5. #25
    DeanE555's Avatar Libertus
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    Default Re: Assignment 2 - Creative Mythology

    I understand CJR43... sat for 3 straight days infront of a blank page and 2 more days writing something and scraping it instantly.

    Best advice I can give you is to maybe write about someone who tagged along a known hero or histroric figure... you have the background so it already has half the work done. Hope it helps!

  6. #26
    FrostySOTF's Avatar Ice in My Veins
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    Default Re: Assignment 2 - Creative Mythology

    Last time I had writers' block I watched a couple movies, I believe it was Monty Python and the Holy Grail that kicked me out of it.

    Apologies all, assignments being graded now, last night 1 hour of Dark Souls turned into 4

  7. #27
    Iron Aquilifer's Avatar Protector Domesticus
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    Default Re: Assignment 2 - Creative Mythology

    Quote Originally Posted by FrostySOTF View Post
    Last time I had writers' block I watched a couple movies, I believe it was Monty Python and the Holy Grail that kicked me out of it.

    Apologies all, assignments being graded now, last night 1 hour of Dark Souls turned into 4
    S'all good. Got Sniper Elite 3 and Alien: Isolation so next assignment may be even more rushed than the past two [emoji14]

  8. #28
    FrostySOTF's Avatar Ice in My Veins
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    Default Re: Assignment 2 - Creative Mythology

    Grading is done but I only received 6 assignments when on week one 10 were turned in. The big problems for this assignment were run-on sentences and rushed endings, let's try and fix those for this week which shall be up in a couple of minutes.

    If you wish to turn your assignment in late I will be accepting them until Wednesday with a slight grade deduction.

  9. #29
    Gluteus_Maximus's Avatar Laetus
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    Default Re: Assignment 2 - Creative Mythology

    I'm sorry, guys (and Frosty), I had to take the L on this one. I simply had no time. I will be sure to put double my efforts into the next assignment!

  10. #30

    Default Re: Assignment 2 - Creative Mythology

    Finally, my work at school on Inca society is useful for once.

    Here's mine if anyone wants to read it.

    Westwards
    Westwards

    Viracocha took a step out onto the water, undaunted, determined, with power in every step he took. Behind him his sons Imahmana and Tocapo walked as well. With each step the shore receded just a bit more. On the sandy beaches his creations- the birds, the bees, the alpacas, the guinea pigs, the chickens and last of all, the humans- stood and wept. They pleaded for him to come back, cried for him to return. Some ran out after him, chasing him. Some just stood there, tears running down their tanned cheeks, with a certain look of defeat in their eyes.


    “Father, why are we leaving?” Asked Imahmana, the younger of the two, the creation’s sadness affecting him.


    “Because we must.” Replied Viracocha, in the way only supreme creators can.


    “Yes, father.” Tocopa remained silently, choosing to follow his father in simply walking straight ahead.


    Soon the sounds of the sea began to drown out the cries of the creations. Those creations that could fly- gulls for instance- soared in flocks above. Below, fish nipped at Viracocha and his son’s bare feet. Viracocha seemed absorbed by a peaceful bliss; his sons daring not to disturb. They chatted quietly between each other, debating where they were going and why, but always quiet enough so their father wouldn’t hear them.


    “Where are we going?” Imahmana finally demanded, fed up with tiptoeing around the subject.


    “West.” Viracocha answered, pointing straight ahead at the direction they were walking.


    “West to where?”


    “West until there is no more west.”


    “More riddles.” Scoffed Imahmana.


    “Some questions can only be answered in riddles.” Imhamana rolled his eyes, while Tocopa wisely chose to stay out of the conversation, instead taking a delight at watching the creatures beneath the surface. “All will be answered in time, my son.” Viracocha added, noticing his son’s exasperation. “It is barely noon, we have not yet been walking for half a day. Take enjoyment from my creations, enjoy the world.”


    “Yes, father.” Imhamana said, conceding defeat.


    The sun was indeed at the highest point of its daily journey and sat glorious and fat, undisturbed by clouds, in the middle of the sky. The shore was now just another part of the horizon and the creations on the beach could not be seen once more. The three continued to walk come sunset, as the sun vanished beneath the ocean.


    “Are we walking to where the sun sets, father?” Imhamana asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.


    “No, not at all.” His father laughed a hearty, deep laugh. “That’s not very interesting.”


    “Where, then?”Imhamana sighed.


    “Where we have no power."


    “You have power everywhere.” Imhamana said, not believing what he had just heard.


    “I have learnt I do not.” Viracocha stopped and turned to his two sons. “There are places where others must rule, places I have not heard of.”


    “What?” The two sons asked simultaneously.


    “How do you know this?” Asked Tocopa?


    “What do you even mean?” Imhamana asked before his father could even answer Tocopa.


    “There are places, which I have not created.” Shock took over both of the son’s faces. “Places, unknown to me, places where, I suspect, I have no power.” Both sons shook their heads, refusing to believe them. Viracocha stroked his long, wiry, black beard which stretched to his abdomen. “That is why we give up everything we have created and worked on.


    “Why west.” Tocopa asked.


    “Because walking across a sea is easier than through mountains and rainforest.” A surprising amount of pragmatism in his answer.


    They walked through the night in silence. Below them, fish which shone brightly amongst the dark water, darted around in shoals. At one point, a large whale passed them, bellowing its greeting. By sunrise, the shore was a distant memory, and endless ocean lay to every side of them.


    Days passed without anything but water and sky and the things which lived in both of them. For the most party, Viracocha stayed silent. The two sons chatted for parts of it but in others, the trio roamed the sea silent.


    Even though Viracocha could have created a land bridge of sorts for them to walk across or islands for them to sleep on, he refused to and even went as far as limiting his children from creating anything. “We are gods to our own creations, to our own land, to ourselves, but what about in places we have no knowledge of. Are we gods there as well?” He would ask them and then plead with them to learn how to not be a god.


    A fortnight went by until an island emerged from the horizon. It was a sight for the sore eyes of the two sons, who yearned for land much more than their father. Beaches lined the coast of the island but then gave way to luscious rain forest, similar to that of the land they had left. But Viracocha refused to stay for long, pushing his sons to continue on his journey. Once he established he was still powerful, the island held no significance for him.


    Weeks passed until the next island but then they came more frequently and more varied. Some volcanic, some covered in endless plains, some just sand.


    And after three months of walking, they found people. Much darker than those Viracocha could remember creating. They talked in a language unknown to Viracocha and his sons, wore different clothes, lived differently. After being shown around one of their villages, Viracocha turend to his sons with a strange delight and exclaimed “Our journey is only just beginning!”.


    Author’s note;


    The above story is based on the Inca creator god, Viracocha, who after creating everything and teaching the people the tools and knowledge they needed to survived, simple walked away across the Pacific. He was predicted to return when the Inca people needed him most. Interestingly enough, he was always portrayed as being fair skinned. Unfortunately, the Spanish conquistadors found the Inca during a civil war and their fair skin and black beards were seen as signs that they were Viracocha. And like too many native people, they met they fate not too long after.
    Last edited by Merchant of Venice; July 14, 2015 at 08:12 AM.

  11. #31
    Alwyn's Avatar Frothy Goodness
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    Default Re: Assignment 2 - Creative Mythology

    Great story! I enjoyed Virococha's enigmatic style of talking and the mystery of where and why they were going.

  12. #32

    Default Re: Assignment 2 - Creative Mythology

    Really great stories here. I love the variety of different cultures (Celtic, Norse, Inca).

    Here is my Greek story.

    Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

    Creative Mythology




    The old man spied the boy through the torrential rain lying half dead on the ground. He was surrounded by the goats he had been herding. He ran up to him. “Are you alright” He asked.
    The boy looked up at him weakly. “I need to get my fathers goats home.”
    “Where is your home.” The concerned elder asked. The boy pointed west.
    “I have just come from the west and there are no houses for miles. We need to get you to shelter right away. Are there any houses to the east?”
    The boy nodded. “There is one about a mile away but the farmer who owns it would not let me stay there unless I gave him half a dozen goats. I told him I would take my chances in the merciless storm rather then with a vile savage like him.” He smiled faintly at the memory of his defiance.
    “You risked death rather then allow yourself to be taken advantage of.” The senior laughed. “What is your name?”
    “Aegidios.” The goatherd responded. “The farmer had a wife who insisted that Zeus would come down and punish them for their lack of hospitality.”
    “Lets go.” said the old man a plan hatching in his head as he picked up the boy. Although he was elderly he was able to bear the weight of the boy.


    The senior found the path leading off the main road to the farm house. It was difficult trying to carry his supplies and the child while simultaneously herding the goats and his own animals; a ram, a bull and a boar but he managed to make good time by using the sailing oar he carried as a staff to support himself. He hurriedly headed up the path painfully conscious of the fact that if he didn’t get the boy to shelter he would die. He thumped on the door to the farm house, preparing himself for what he must do. It was a big farm house and even had a barn for animals next to it. A short plump grumpy man opened the door.
    “I thought you were too proud to stay here.” He scowled at Aegidios. “Who are you?” he added to the elder.
    “So this is the way you treat guests who come to your house asking for hospitality.” The visiter asked in a booming voice.
    “It’s Zeus come down to punish.” His wife who had followed him to the house shrieked. She was tall and thin. The opposite of her husband. The two of them made an odd couple.
    “It is clear that you people have no respect for the Gods.” The old man continued.
    The women dropped to her knees and pleaded shamelessly. “We’re sorry. Please give us another chance. We will never send a guest away again.”
    The farmer scowled. “Don’t be ridiculous woman this isn’t Zeus it is just some deranged old man.”
    “You dare speak to me like that? You shall pay.” The elder threw off his cloak to reveal massive muscles underneath. He looked to be as strong and healthy as a warrior half his age and he towered over the plump little farmer.
    The man squealed. “It really is Zeus.” He joined his wife on the ground and began groveling. “Please forgive my ignorance. I will do anything you say.”


    Zeus sat on his throne on Mount Olympus ogling the woman on earth when Hermes came bursting into the room suddenly.
    “Father Zeus!” he panted “I bring grave news.”
    “Well what is it.” The king of the Gods demanded impatiently.
    “There is a mortal pretending to be you.” Hermes said hurriedly.
    “WHAT!” Zeus howled. “Never in all my years have I heard something so outrageous. Not even the trickster Odysseus attempted something like this.”
    “Funny you should mention Odysseus....”


    Odysseus was blinded by a flash of lighting and deafened by booming thunder. There had been thunder and lighting all day but this was different as if Zeus was hurling a bolt right next to them in rage. Odysseus shivered, that was a bad omen. Nevertheless he was starting to enjoy himself. The beef the couple had cooked up for him was lacking salt but even still it was nice to have a hot dinner for a change. Aegidios was still very faint and the wife had to feed him. Odysseus had sent the husband outside to the barn to tend to the animals. They were desperate to please him. The couples daughter started at Odysseus from the opposite side of the table. She challenged him fiercely. “If you really are Zeus why do you stay disguised as an old man. Why don’t you show us your true form.”
    “Foolish girl, don’t you know if you see a god in their true form you will go up in flames. Have some respect” Her mother said giving her a clout on the head. The girl shrieked in pain and sullenly looked down.
    Odysseus grinned wickedly. He didn’t even have to trick these peasants, they would fool themselves. It was all too easy.


    “Odysseus has gone too far this time.” Zeus announced loudly when all the gods were gathered in his throne room.
    “I would argue he went too far a long time ago.” Poseidon mumbled bitterly.
    “He needs to be stopped once and for all.” Zeus continued ignoring his brother. “We need to put an end to his tricks and schemes.”
    “Blast him with a thunder bolt.” Ares yelled sadistically.
    “Father, is Odysseus really doing anything wrong. All he did was save a kids life and teach some humility to an arrogant farmer. He never even claimed to be you. He only didn’t deny it when the simpletons jumped to that conclusion.” Athena reasoned.
    “Athena, you are by far my favourite child, but even you can’t talk me out of my anger.” Zeus responded stubbornly.
    Athena could feel all her siblings staring at her enviously but she didn’t care, it was true. “If your heart is set on punishing Odysseus at least give him a chance to redeem himself.”
    “What do you have in mind?” Zeus asked intrigued.
    “A quest.” Athena said eyes sparkling.


    The couple had generously donated their bed to Aegidios on Odysseus’ instance. The poor lad was very sickly and he wouldn’t be able to leave the house for a few days. As soon as dawn appeared fresh and rosy fingered, Odysseus went out to the barn to check on the animals.
    “Impersonating a God is a very serious thing.” A woman said from behind him.
    Odysseus knew who it was instantly. He had been fooled by the disguises too many times. “Goddess, I will not presume to explain to you why I did what I did for you already know my reasons.”
    “I know you had good in your heart but my father doesn’t see it that way. I have come to issue you with a quest. If you succeed Zeus shall forgive. You must slay the ferocious manticore.”
    “Manticore? I have not heard of this creature but I have defeated many monsters in my life how can this one be any different?”
    “You will be on your own. You have no men to help and I won’t be allowed offer you any assistance.” Flashing eyed Athena replied.
    “I can slay the manticore by myself, whatever it is. Its not like I have always relied on help from others.” Odysseus boasted.
    “Thats debatable. Regardless you will find the manticore on the top of that mountain.” Athena said pointing to one of the far off mountains. “If you travel through the night you should arrive tomorrow morning.” And with that Athena disappeared.
    Odysseus left his supplies in the barn with strict instructions for the farmer to look after them, the animals and Aegidios. He then set out dutifully to the mountain with only his sword and some food.


    Odysseus crept up the mountain side just as dawn was breaking. A large cave sat on the summit of the mountain. Odysseus slipped into a bush and watched the entrance of the cave patiently. He had learned from experience that it was foolish to go into the cave of a monster. When it was near midday and Odysseus was starting to think that Athena had deceived him the manticore emerged from its cave. It was a grotesque thing with the face of a human, the body of a lion, a scorpions tail, the wings of a bat and two short horns. The hero examined it hoping to find a weak spot but none presented itself to him. The creature walked over to a patch of sunlight and collapsed. It certainly was a lazy creature, it slept in and then immediately began lounging in the sun. Odysseus heard it snoring softly and knew this was his chance to strike. He snuck out of the bush and inched towards the monster. When he was standing over the monster he carefully drew his sword and prepared himself to thrust it into the heart of the beast. Suddenly the monsters eyes opened and it snarled. Odysseus lunged forward with the sword but the manticore was swift and rolled out of the way. It leapt to it feet and its tail went flying at Odysseus. Odysseus took a step back but needles shot out from the tail and hit him in the chest. Odysseus collapsed to the ground unable to move. He was paralyzed from the shoulders down.
    “I am going to enjoy eating you.” The manticore said in a deep throaty voice.
    “Wait before you eat me. You should know that I was sent by the Gods and I am under their protection.” Odysseus said desperately stalling for time.
    “The Gods?” The manticore laughed. “They can’t do anything to me. All they ever do is send hero’s who I slay with ease. I don’t fear the Gods they should fear me.”
    “You don’t fear the Gods? Not even Zeus the lightning wielder?” Odysseus asked with pretend awe.
    “Zeus. Why should I fear that weak old man what is he going to do hurl a bolt of lighting and strike me down. I doubt he could even hit me if he tried.” Giggled the manticore just before he got struck by lighting.
    The manticore collapsed dead in a smoking heap. After a minute Odysseus felt feeling return through his body.
    “Let it never be said I don’t learn from my mistakes and if there is one thing I have learned from all of this, it is not to evoke the anger of almighty Zeus.” Odysseus muttered.


    On Olympus there was up roar.
    “You shouldn’t have intervened. The manticore would have killed him.” Poseidon shouted.
    “I wanted to see blood.” Ares whined.
    “Quiet all of you.” Athena ordered. “The point of sending Odysseus on this quest was to teach him to respect the Gods. If father allowed the manticore to get away with his arrogance what kind of a moral would that be.”
    “Exactly.” Zeus agreed glad to have an escape route.
    Athena grinned she knew she had triumphed today.


    Odysseus returned to the farm exhausted from his journey. He met the arrogant farmer on his way up the path.
    “Zeus, we have done all you asked Please don’t hurt me.” He cried as he collapsed onto his knees.
    “You should learn to have more respect for the gods and your fellow men.” Odysseus said curtly using his normal voice instead of the booming one he had used earlier. He left the farmer to contemplate his words and headed to the barn to collect his animals and his supplies. Aegidios was gathering his goats and preparing to leave when Odysseus entered.
    The boy smiled shyly. “I never properly thanked you. I would have died without you.”
    “Don’t worry about it.” The hero replied modestly.
    The goatherd hesitated. “You’re not really Zeus, are you?”
    “Of course I am not all powerful Zeus. I only pretended to be him to teach that farmer to respect the Gods. A lesson I have also learned.” Odysseus smiled.
    The two set off down the path that connected the farm house to the main road.
    “Where are you headed now?” Aegidios asked.
    “I need to keep heading east. My journey isn’t over yet.” Odysseus said gloomily.
    “Why do you carry a winnowing fan?” The boy asked suddenly, gesturing to the oar Odysseus carried.
    “Perhaps my journey is almost over.” Odysseus grinned. It was time to make his peace with Poseidon, return to Ithaca and never leave again.




    So this story is obviously based very heavily on the Odyssey. If you haven’t read it you might not get all the references. Basically when Odysseus visits the underworld he is told after he returns to Ithaca he must head inland with a sailing oar and some animals. When he reaches a land where they have never heard of the sea and someone refers to his oar as a winnowing fan then he can sacrifice his animals and make peace with Poseidon. I have never heard anything about what happened on this expedition so I decided to make my own version. I took a kind of satirical approach which was fun. Anyway let me know what you think.




    The game.

  13. #33
    Alwyn's Avatar Frothy Goodness
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    Default Re: Assignment 2 - Creative Mythology

    Great story, I enjoyed the way that you used the Odyssey and the character of Odysseus in particular, to create the previously untold story of this expedition.

  14. #34
    The Wandering Storyteller's Avatar Protector Domesticus
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    Default Re: Assignment 2 - Creative Mythology

    May I also submit mine?





















































  15. #35
    FrostySOTF's Avatar Ice in My Veins
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    Default Re: Assignment 2 - Creative Mythology

    Quote Originally Posted by The Triumph of Rome View Post
    May I also submit mine?
    *nods*

  16. #36
    Iron Aquilifer's Avatar Protector Domesticus
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    Default Re: Assignment 2 - Creative Mythology

    Gods Of War
    “They flee! They flee! My lord, the Achaeans! They run! We have put them to flight!”

    He turned at that, sword blunted in his hand. All around him, to his left and to his right, before him and behind, thousands of bloodied men cheered and spat, roared and wailed, wept and shrieked. The sound was no different from the crashing waves of a storm, the warcry of the gods themselves. To one who was untested, it would horrifying.

    “Take them to their ships!” he cried out to all who could hear him. “Take them to the sea!”

    As a shepherd drives on his flock, so too did the prince drive on his men. From beneath the walls of their city did they force back the Hellenes, who until then had pressed them in to the shadow of their home as the ocean pressed on the cliff. With only enough time to suck in the heavy red mist that was now considered air, the victorious prince took to the field once more. With him rode his youngest brother, pretty and soft in his youth. On this day he had gone from coward to hero, from shame to glory. For that, the prince was glad to have him at his side as they drove the Achaeans back from their home. This victory was as much Paris’ as it was Hector’s. He start this all.

    The Trojans were a swarm upon the field, scattering their foes before them like grain on the wind. This is what victory feels like, Hector grinned. Time and time again he had tried to bring them to the table, to settle the conflict through peace. Time and time again he had been foiled. Not this time. Not again.

    “Will they ever cease?”

    “My son, what do the scales tell you?”

    “They do not favour the Hellenes.”

    “He is needed then.”

    The ditch had been birthed in to being years before, at a time when those within the city limits had believed that this was a war between good men. A war where tradition would be maintained, where gods would be honoured and the slain exalted. It was a symbol of Hector’s failure. Leaping across it and on to the camp beyond, the prince did not give it a backwards glance.

    “We take their ships this day, before the light fails us!” he instructed, pointing with his blade to where he wanted Paris to lead the men.

    The man followed his elder’s command, twisting his steed to drive on towards the edge of the enemy camp and then to the beach. Sparing only a moment to check that the royal was making his way without much, Hector returned to the battle at hand. The enemy were near enough in full flight, thousands upon thousands streaming towards the sprawling affair that was their camp. None seemed willing to face them, that wave of vengeance pouring from within the defiant walls of Troy.

    To the prince’s dismay however, the Achaeans rallied. Above them stood Agamemnon, a shadowy figure cut against the darkening blue sky. Over the crying of ten thousand bleeding warriors, in the face of twenty thousand calls of pain or glory, the Hellenes’ words were lost on him. Whatever he said, it relit the spark of valour in the men below him, turning them to defy the storm coming from over the crest.

    Time did not slow in the resulting clash, if anything it seemed to run on faster and faster. Time and time again Hector called his men forward, only to be driven back over the bodies of the slain. For every Achaean slain the Trojans were driven back a step and vice-versa. He spotted Paris a dozen times, merely fleeting snaps of a warrior who had yet to be claimed by the Keres.

    “Hold the line!” he rasped, taking a moment to catch his breath, breathing in the copper to try and quench the fire ravaging his lungs.

    The men seemed to hear the words, but did they understand them? With a curse, the prince watched in dismay as the line caved, the foreigners hacking away as they pressed some ill-gained advantage. The smell of loosened bowels was over-powered by the metallic scent of blood, as the sight of victory was replaced by the sight of failure. He could already see the tide turn with the setting of the sun.

    Hector did not call the command to break free from the fighting however he could not muster up the energy to demand the fight to continue. Chests heaving, the two hosts disentangled themselves from each other beneath the combined light of sun and moon. With night fast-approaching, both armies had only one thought on their mind, and that was not of trying to kill their foes.

    So upon the plain Hector ordered his host to rest for the night. “Upon the morrow we will burn their ships.”

    The generals nodded in agreement, their confidence restored after fighting the Hellenes all the way back to their encampment. Some had had doubts about victory in the previous years of the war, having lost so much in the fighting as one by one, their allied cities fell to the invaders. Now, however, their prince would see them to a hard earned victory that would resonate throughout the ages.


    He finally turned back to face the madman. His brother was no longer at his side, vanished as if he were an apparition. Zeus and Apollo, do you desert me now? The gods did not reply, nor did they give him a sign that his life would be saved. All around him the army of Troy was broken, a herd of frightened cows driven mad by the savage attack of a lion. They could not resist the tempest that was the Achaean charge, they could not stop the bloodlust that had settled on the invaders. You who have protected me, Troy’s greatest warrior, you who have brought me here, will you give me a glorious death?

    Hector watched the man approach, Ares cloaked in the skin of man. He had been consumed by a fire. It was a raging inferno that would make ash of his spirit, turning him in to a walking husk of a man.

    “Hector!” the beast-man cried out, hurling his ashwood spear at the prince, a snarl on his lips.

    “What do the scales say?”

    “Hector shall go to Hades.”

    “Then leave his side, my son.”

    Ducking beneath the weapon, Hector launched his own spear, rising to his full length. Apollo guide my shaft. What could have been despair welled up in him as the thrown spear struck Achilles’ shield, a piece of artistic mastery that appeared to defy the arms of mortal men. A half-step back, the Trojan prince accepted the truth of his fate then.

    “Before the gods,” the gods who have abandoned me, “I call upon you to honour an oath that, no matter who falls, the other shall allow the corpse to be treated with respect.”

    “Does a lion make deals with men?” hissed the Achaean. “You shall die and the body left for the dogs to feast upon as the funeral pyres of my friends burn bright.”

    With that, Achilles raced forward, a spear in his hand once more. Drawing his sword, the sword of Troy, Hector rushed forward to meet him, alone of the warriors of Troy to remain defiant. Achilles, moving faster than speech, sent his spear forward towards the prince. Trusting in the armour of Achilles, Hector made to slash out at his foe’s chest. However the sword never met flesh, the blade being jerked back as Hector’s entire body went limp, his legs falling from under him.

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